


Hold Me Closer

by hvanwoong



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: (a little plot), Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Idols, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvanwoong/pseuds/hvanwoong
Summary: Seoho is good at a lot of things.Permitting himself to be vulnerable is not one of them.
Relationships: Lee Seoho/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Hold Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone ^-^ It’s me with a follow up to my work Pretty Little Thing! This fic takes place after the events of that one but you don’t need to have read oneshot #1 to read this one, it’s just mentioned. This is Seowoong smut number 3 for me. Enjoy responsibly. Love you xx

‘Can we try this for the adlib?’ Keonhee sings a high vocal run that shines like gold and Seoho glances up. He shrugs and the producer nods.

The three of them have been crammed into this small booth for over two hours, and the loop of the same song over and over is beginning to drill a channel through Seoho’s skull. He rubs his eyes, drained from the previous late night. Though dance practice ran so late yesterday, nobody thought to consider the two of them, who had to be called to the studio for last-minute work on two of their B-sides early in the morning. Stifling a yawn, Seoho scratches the back of his neck.

‘What do you think about this, hyung?’

Realising that this demands an answer, Seoho clears his throat. ‘Yes, we can do that.’ He imitates the adlib that Keonhee demonstrates, but his voice comes out scratchy. If he forgot to turn on the humidifier last night, then that’s on him, but he can’t help but think that it’s something about the gruelling pre-comeback schedule and the lack of sleep that’s sucking life out of his body.

‘You sound kind of hoarse. Are you okay?’ Keonhee’s brow furrows. Always one to say it how it is, he doesn’t hover around the words. ‘You’re not getting sick are you?’

‘I’m not sick. I’m just tired.’

‘Tired? Tired how?’ Keonhee asks, and it doesn’t escape Seoho’s notice that their producer excuses himself for a minute like he knows that a serious conversation is threatening to go down.

‘We barely slept last night,’ he says softly.

‘But it’s not just that, is it?’ Keonhee asks. ‘You’ve looked tired for days. Talk to me, hyung!’

Seoho just shakes his head. ‘I’m fine.’ Those two words do nothing. They don’t touch on the stress knotted at the top of his neck, the fatigue, the weight of not a single moment in which his mind has been able to rest for days. Every moment is comeback – comeback – comeback. He’s forgotten how it feels just to breathe.

‘Have you talked to Hwanwoong?’ murmurs Keonhee.

In a second, Seoho lifts a finger, alert again. ‘Do not tell Hwanwoong!’

‘Tell him what?’ Keonhee feigns innocence.

‘That I’m… tired…’ he trails off, realising that he has been caught out.

‘Your secret is safe with me,’ says Keonhee, and he makes an elaborate gesture around his heart to make the promise clearer. ‘But you need to talk to people, Seoho. You keep it all locked up inside. Dongju snapped at me the other day and I’ve never been happier for him. It’s healthier to let it out. Everyone is stressed. Comeback season is hard. You need to talk about how you’re feeling.’

‘Right. Yeah.’ Talking about how he feels has never been an area that Seoho excels in. If it were a school subject, he would receive a fail grade. It’s just the way that he is, and the way that he has been since he was a kid.

‘You need to find an outlet. Some way to let it out. Talk to Hwanwoong.’

‘Yeah, yeah I will,’ he nods, even though he has no intention of doing any such thing. The last thing that he wants, when the comeback is just around the corner, is to add even more weight onto his boyfriend’s shoulders. He’d rather carry a burden for the rest of his life than make Hwanwoong haul around any of that weight even for a week. That’s the sort of values that he’s held in his chest for his entire life. His parents instilled them there. Self-sacrifice is a virtue. Internalising everything to keep it from impacting those around you is an even better one. Or at least that is what he’s always thought.

‘Right,’ says Keonhee, but his eyes are unreadable. He pushes the lyric sheet over to Seoho. ‘Let’s talk about this part.’

Seoho blinks, eyes blurry from tiredness. Now that he’s faced with work again, he thinks that he ought to have relished the minute of conversation about something else. A dull throb aches at the back of his head. He’d take a moment of relief now, any kind of relief, but when he looks up the producer is letting himself back in through the sound-proofed door and he knows that relief is not on the schedule for today.

~

Hwanwoong paces the dorm, glowering to himself while Dongju packs up his back and loops his arm with Youngjo. The two of them are going shopping. Hwanwoong knows that the trip will involve Youngjo spoiling their youngest for as long as possible and that affords him time. Keonhee, meanwhile, will keep Geonhak busy for as long as he needs him to be out of the house. Nonetheless, he feels edgy as he paces the living room of the small dorm.

It’s so difficult to find privacy here. It’s so difficult to have a conversation with his boyfriend when there is always someone in the next room. And Seoho has been flagging for days. It’s not as if Hwanwoong doesn’t recognise the signs. The creeping stress, the erecting of walls, the way that Seoho stops talking and starts gazing into space for so long like the thoughts in his head are worth more time than any of the words spoken aloud. He’s watched it before. Keonhee coming to speak to him about it just makes it final.

‘Yeah, I’ll see you later,’ he conjures up in a friendly voice when Dongju ushers Youngjo out of the front door, but it is with a thud that Hwanwoong slams the door behind them and launches himself over the couch in his hurry to get back to the bedroom where Seoho is curled up in bed.

Like the others, he got dressed this morning, but when Hwanwoong slides open the door he finds him curled up atop the comforter looking as prone as if he just woke. Seoho is wrapped in a plaid shirt and loose jeans, but his feet are bare, tucked up beneath the rest of him. He’s facing the wall but Hwanwoong can see that his eyes are open. This rare day off in the midst of preparations for promotions ought to be spent having fun outside like the others, but fun seems to be the very last thing on Seoho’s mind.

Hwanwoong’s heart aches. He takes a step forward, then hesitates.

Reminding himself that this is one of his most important responsibilities as boyfriend in chief, he pushes forward and crosses to the bed. ‘Hey, love,’ he says, crawling onto the bed behind Seoho’s back. He doesn’t try to turn him over or press too close, but rather lays down on his side a little behind him. ‘It’s me,’ he adds unnecessarily, because he hopes that it will make Seoho laugh.

It doesn’t.

‘Are you awake?’ he whispers.

‘Mmhm,’ Seoho hums.

‘I can hear you thinking,’ says Hwanwoong. He means it. There’s something in the air that moves differently when Seoho is lost inside his own mind. He rests a tentative hand at his shoulder and when Seoho doesn’t flinch, he slides it down to squeeze his forearm and tucks his body up closer behind him. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

With a question that demands a direct answer, Seoho does not seem to think that he can avoid him any longer. ‘There’s nothing.’

‘Please, Seoho,’ murmurs Hwanwoong. He kisses Seoho’s shoulder over his shirt, then creeps his lips up to the back of his neck. The press of a kiss at the top of his spine makes Seoho tense up but then soften. His muscles relax slightly and Hwanwoong takes advantage of the invitation, sliding up his arms around his waist. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘There’s nothing wrong, Woong,’ Seoho sighs.

Hwanwoong pouts into his back. It is always this way with Seoho. His boyfriend is the very best at digging information out of _him_ , but when it comes to talking about himself Seoho closes up. After a moment of contemplation, Hwanwoong sits up and crosses his legs under his body. ‘Talk to me, love,’ he says, ‘I can feel everything you’ve got bottled up inside. It’s all here.’ He moves his hands up to touch the side of Seoho’s face, fingertips just stroking his temple. ‘I can hear your head buzzing with all of the things you won’t say.’

Finally, Seoho rolls onto his back and meets his eyes. ‘Do you ever feel like it’s too much?’

‘What is too much?’ He’s conscious that Seoho looks tired, his eyes having lost a little of their sparkle.

‘All of it. Work.’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘No, it’s not that,’ Seoho squeezes his eyes shut. ‘It’s just that whenever it gets to this time, before the comeback, everything becomes work. There’s no balance. Life takes a backseat and maybe it works for some people who prefer to sprint, but I need to take it like a marathon. I need drink breaks and moments to slow down. When it’s full-on like this all the time I feel like we never have a second to rest. And it’s not just about me, I have to worry about you too.’

The words hover in the air while Hwanwoong takes them in. Once he has got his head around their meaning, he frowns. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I like it like this. We’re different.’

‘I do still worry.’

Sticking his lower lip out, Hwanwoong brushes back the feathery black hair from Seoho’s forehead. ‘I can talk to the managers for you if you feel like you don’t have time for rest. Sleep is important. What happened yesterday wasn’t fair, having you and Keonhee going to the studio only a few hours after the practice.’

To his surprise, Seoho just shakes his head. ‘I’m not saying things right. It’s not about sleep, it’s not about yesterday. I can live with five hours. This balance is about having time to just exist, time to do things that aren’t just sleep or work. I feel like I’m forgetting myself, like I have no time for the things that make me happy.’

Hwanwoong’s heart aches. Even though he is tired too, even though his eyes sting sometimes and the stress of the comeback makes his body hurt, his thoughts are only on his boyfriend. Seoho spends too much time internalising all of this, compressing it into a tiny ball at the back of his head that vibrates against his skull with such energy that sometimes Hwanwoong is sure he can feel it against his skin. ‘Tell me what makes you happy.’

Seoho raises his eyebrows and then gives him his characteristic shy smile. ‘You make me happy.’

‘Hyung,’ Hwanwoong groans with a shove to his shoulder, ‘I’m serious.’

‘So am I. You do make me happy. You’re the thing that I miss most when we’re working.’

‘But I’m right there at your side.’

‘It’s not the same,’ Seoho whispers.

As the words travel through the delicate waves of the room, Hwanwoong gets an idea of what he means. How long has it been, since they touched each other in a way that wasn’t professional? Tour feels like a lifetime ago. Hwanwoong’s pink hair has been replaced by soft blondish-brown locks and their stage clothes now are fun and casual, jeans and bomber jackets. The days add up into weeks before they even notice that they’re passing. All those nights in the dorm, surrounded by the others, and all of those days at the studio.

Hwanwoong lays back down on his side and touches Seoho’s face as he catches his lips in a kiss. The kiss is languid, romantic. He parts his lips with a motion so soft that it is as if he sinks into him, and Seoho lets him. None of their usual games come into play. Hwanwoong just kisses him and Seoho lets him and for once the lack of push and pull makes Hwanwoong feel warmer in his chest. His hand finds Seoho’s jaw and his neck and he tilts his face up to stroke at his lower lip with his tongue, into his mouth and Seoho nudges him back only to sigh breath.

‘We’re alone now,’ whispers Hwanwoong. He kisses everywhere that he can reach that still permits Seoho to talk, first his cheek and then down to pepper his jaw. ‘You can have all of me now.’

‘You don’t have to do this just to make me feel better.’

‘Shush, you,’ Hwanwoong mutters, pressing his finger to Seoho’s lips. ‘Do you think that I haven’t missed you too?’

He thinks of these weeks spent with only stolen kisses and an arm around his shoulders or waist for comfort. It’s easier to throw himself into work as a distraction than to be faced with the reality that time without Seoho in his bed leaves him restless, touch-starved in a new kind of way. They can be so close to one another, an inch apart all day every day, without ever feeling truly intimate.

Seoho slides his hands under Hwanwoong’s shirt to caress his back, featherlight. It makes Hwanwoong relax with relief to feel him respond, opening up to this as an option. He tugs at his own shirt to pull it over his head while Seoho smiles. The brush of fingertips up and down his spine makes Hwanwoong shiver while his skin is exposed to the cool air in the bedroom. No heat soaks up the air, but rather there’s a neutrality or a harmony brought into the space, like this is exactly where the two of them are supposed to be at this exact moment in time.

‘What if the others come back?’ says Seoho.

‘I’m not afraid of them,’ Hwanwoong snickers, then sobers his face up. ‘They’ll be gone for ages, hyung, promise.’

Ever somewhat more reserved than him, Seoho takes a minute before removing his own shirt. Hwanwoong takes the time just to look at him, reminding himself of each feature as if it has been a year since he last saw him. He pushes work to the back of his own mind. Seoho’s smooth skin becomes the centre of his universe, eyes grazing down his long neck to his toned stomach. There’s a burn on his arm from a foray in the kitchen, and a familiar dimple in his skin from an old, old scar. These details are the ones that Hwanwoong doesn’t get to enjoy when everything is work.

Noticing them now, he concentrates.

‘You’re staring.’

‘You’re right,’ says Hwanwoong. ‘It has been too much work and not enough of everything else.’

He jumps when Seoho sits up and takes him into his arms, a quick bear hug that turns him onto his back and kisses him down into the mattress. Giggling, Hwanwoong rolls his head back to permit Seoho to paint patterns of love on his neck and his chest. They’re pretty paintings, etched on his aura rather than his skin, reminders that Hwanwoong will feel tomorrow when he wakes up and when he dances. He follows the trail with his own fingers until he finds Seoho’s hair and knots them there instead.

Seoho kisses his abdomen. ‘You’re getting fitter, Woong,’ he says, and the curve of his lips is reassurance to Hwanwoong. Every smile from Seoho today is a gift.

‘Well, we have been working a lot,’ he huffs. He’s also been running every morning with Geonhak, but he plays that off. ‘You like it?’

‘Mmhm,’ Seoho hums against his skin.

Hwanwoong runs his fingers down to the back of Seoho’s head, working through knots of hair, and he wonders if he can still detect the ball of stress. Will it fade, with his help? Can this make up for all of these weeks? He massages the dip at the base of his skull. Seoho sighs and adjusts the weight on his arms when he squeezes at his shoulders and his aching shoulder blades.

As he looks up at Hwanwoong, he thinks that this man is the one, singular thing in the world who could possibly make up for all of these weeks. With Hwanwoong, the fire ball of energy that he’s been generating, cramming all of his nervous anxiety there for so long, can be soothed. Hwanwoong is water to his flame. If Hwanwoong is tired too, or stressed too, it does not betray on his face. The only knot on his forehead is worry for his boyfriend. Seoho is hit by a wave of guilt at the realisation that he has made him feel this way.

‘Did I scare you?’ he whispers. His voice comes out as hoarse as it did with Keonhee in the studio. ‘I hate the thought that I made you worry.’

‘You didn’t scare me,’ says Hwanwoong, ‘but of course I was worried when Keonhee said that you weren’t feeling good. We’re in love, hyung, I guess that worrying about each other is part of the business.’

Seoho wishes to bathe in those words. ‘Say it again.’

‘We’re in _love_ ,’ Hwanwoong repeats. ‘And I’m here for you every day. Talk to me when you need me, please. It’s not all about fucking in front of the mirror.’

‘That was fun though,’ Seoho grins. His mind flashes through the memory like the short recount at the start of a drama.

‘It was.’

At last, with that image in his head, a pink-haired Hwanwoong writhing in his grip, Seoho feels his body start to respond to the prospect of an hour alone with his boyfriend. Realisation that they are _alone_ washes over him. He grips Hwanwoong’s hips as he kisses him, and thinks how it must be to find oneself lost in it all. He wonders, too, whether he has ever truly lost himself the way that Hwanwoong did that night. Trembling, moaning, whimpering out for every bit of contact.

Seoho isn’t sure he’s ever felt like that.

‘I’ll take care of you whenever you want,’ says Hwanwoong, and nor has Seoho ever heard him sound so tender. There’s no hint of a joke in his voice, nor an ounce of irony. No teasing. He couples the words with gentle hands on Seoho’s waist at odds with the bruising kiss, and before Seoho even thinks about it Hwanwoong is unbuckling his belt and his fingers push under the waistband of his jeans. Seoho lets him, balancing on one knee so that his boyfriend can undress him. It’s rare that he’s the one to be unclothed first.

He can’t help but think that Hwanwoong taking care of him sounds like the very best thing in the world. Images scroll over his mind that he has never pictured before, and they involve laying on his back and moaning the way that Hwanwoong moans. Today, he has no energy to _give_.

Hwanwoong undresses himself under Seoho’s soft gaze, right down to the socks that almost make him topple, balanced on one foot. Automatically, Seoho turns onto his back and allows Hwanwoong to crawl over him, sitting across his lap. ‘I’m here for you,’ Hwanwoong breathes, taking Seoho’s hand in his. Their fingers interlink, but then Hwanwoong is moving Seoho’s hand back towards him, around his body to slide down over his skin and Seoho’s breath hitches.

‘Woong – I - ’ If he doesn’t say it now, he’ll never say it. ‘Can you do it?’

For a second, Hwanwoong’s eyebrows lift. ‘Sure,’ he shrugs. The momentary loss of composure looks unfamiliar on him. He lets go of Seoho’s hand and rests his left palm flat on his chest while he adjusts his position on his knees and reaches his right hand around his back. ‘You just relax, love. Just watch me.’

‘No,’ Seoho swallows. Heat rises scarlet up his cheeks. ‘I mean will you… will you do it for me? To me?’

A flash of confusion over Hwanwoong’s face. They haven’t discussed this before. He opens his mouth then closes it. ‘Oh… you want me to?’

‘I sort of want to feel taken care of,’ whispers Seoho. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life. Hwanwoong is naked in his lap, just waiting to be taken, waiting for him to provide, but he doesn’t have it in him today. ‘I want to feel how you feel when I do it for you.’ Just when he is starting to panic, a gentle smile breaks over Hwanwoong’s face. It lights him up, teeth showing between thin pretty lips.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he says.

‘You’ll do it?’

‘Of course I’ll do it.’ At last, a mean glint in Hwanwoong’s eyes that suggests something like excitement, and then he launches himself halfway across the bed to scrabble in Seoho’s nightstand for the disused bottle of lube beneath his herbal sleep medicine and allergy tablets. ‘It means relaxing for me though. Do you think you can relax for me, hyung? Do you think you can let go of everything else and just be here with me?’

His words are magnetic. The way that Hwanwoong talks is unique to him. There’s no one else in the world who can hold Seoho’s attention on a knife edge the way that he does. It’s an embarrassing truth but Seoho has always found it difficult to keep attentive when others are talking. The thoughts inside his own head are always more demanding of his consideration. But with Hwanwoong, he’ll grasp onto every syllable. ‘I can,’ he says in earnest.

No anxiety grabs him when he kicks his way out of his jeans under Hwanwoong’s gaze. In this bed, with him, he feels safe. He settles back and slides off his shorts. He’s halfway towards halfway there, but it’s only when Hwanwoong crawls back between his legs and wraps his fingers around the base of his arousal that he feels the buzz of energy start to break into his bloodstream. Familiar with this, Hwanwoong brushes his thumb over the swelling tip of his cock and Seoho exhales, head falling back onto the pillow.

‘I’ve always wanted to do this,’ says Hwanwoong.

The words alert Seoho. ‘You have?’

‘Of course. But I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I know how it feels to let someone in, physically for the first time. It’s scary.’

‘I’m not scared with you.’

Hwanwoong collects the first drops of precum on his fingers and works down around Seoho’s length. Arching his back, Seoho lets his eyes fall closed. It’s lightning in his veins and the thought of work is buried deep beneath all of the thoughts of Hwanwoong. He shivers and crooks one knee, but that motion seems to prompt Hwanwoong to move. The temporary friction on his cock fades away and instead Hwanwoong’s hands are on his legs.

Before he knows it, he jumps, because Hwanwoong presses a light kiss to his inner thigh. His grip is gentle but firm, spreading Seoho’s legs for him, and his teeth graze the vulnerable skin. Seoho keeps his eyes squeezed shut, like he’ll be less nervous this way, but he’s conscious of the direction in which Hwanwoong is moving. The plastic bottle clicks when Hwanwoong sucks softly at a patch of skin and Seoho’s body jerks, unable to ignore the sound.

‘Relax,’ whispers Hwanwoong. ‘It’ll hurt if you tense up.’

The word _hurt_ ricochets around Seoho’s ears. It makes him tense far more than anything else. Hwanwoong must feel it because he murmurs something against Seoho’s thigh.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, breath hot on his skin, ‘it’s me, remember?’

Seoho nods. He knows that Hwanwoong’s first time wasn’t with him, or with someone that he felt as safe as this with. He opens his eyes and looks down to remind himself that this is Hwanwoong. ‘I trust you,’ he says, after a lifetime of struggling to let anyone in. Hwanwoong has broken down walls inside him that his friends have never been able to breach. The inner thoughts that he thrives in but would never say aloud are shared between them now, and the truths and anxieties that he thought were better locked in his belly have long since been carried equally by Hwanwoong.

‘Little breath in,’ says Hwanwoong, and Seoho obeys without question.

As he inhales, he feels the graze of Hwanwoong’s fingers over the most intimate part of himself. That something, he has never shared. It’s not jarring, though. Hwanwoong is always fluid in his motions, never jumping into a touch but dancing into it. He grazes his forefinger around Seoho’s tightness and Seoho forces himself to think of his words again. _Relax_. He sends that message to every muscle in his body, even though nerves are creeping up over him now.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking?’ Hwanwoong requests. He kisses Seoho’s knee, making sure that no part of his body is neglected.

‘I’m thinking that you’re the only person in the world that I trust with all of me,’ he says. He’s only halfway through the words when he feels the first press of Hwanwoong’s finger inside him and he jumps, closing his eyes again, but he concentrates on breathing out the rest of the words. At first, there’s nothing close to pleasure, but it does not hurt either. He pictures Hwanwoong falling apart again in his mind and focusses on how very good this can feel.

As if he can read his mind, Hwanwoong whispers, ‘it gets better. It gets so good.’

By the time that it’s two fingers, Seoho starts to understand. There’s an unfamiliar sting, but at the same time an almost vibration in his navel that sends good signals to all the right places. He automatically lowers his hand and wraps it around his own cock, reminding himself to stay present. It would be easy to fall into nothing but the practicality of it. ‘Does it get easier?’ he breathes out, because suddenly he can’t help but think about all of the times that he has rushed this with Hwanwoong.

‘Way easier.’ Hwanwoong kisses his thigh.

‘I don’t ever hurt you?’

‘Only when I want you to,’ grins Hwanwoong. He coaxes Seoho to a third finger and that’s when Seoho groans, back twisting. Maybe Hwanwoong mistakes it for pain, because his forehead creases. ‘I’m sorry. It’ll be better for… you know… when I’m inside you.’

Seoho nods rapidly, but his cock is twitching with interest. He rings lazy fingers around his length and realises that his own hand is trembling. There’s vulnerability in this that is new to him. Vulnerability is not in Seoho’s natural make-up. He keeps his gaze on the crown of Hwanwoong’s head, dark roots peeking through, and then the gleaming eyes that have captured his heart since the day they met when he looks up. Watching him, buried between his knees, he can remind himself that this is where he feels safest. This ought not be any different to Hwanwoong’s embrace when they fall asleep together.

‘You’re lucky, I’m not too big to be your first,’ Hwanwoong giggles.

‘You’ll be my first and last,’ says Seoho.

Hwanwoong withdraws his fingers and despite the discomfort of the strange intrusion, Seoho immediately finds himself missing it. He shifts his hips the way that Hwanwoong does when he wants more and props himself up on his elbows to watch while Hwanwoong slicks up his cock in his small hands. This show is the best kind of erotica. Despite the cool room, a bead of sweat has formed at the base of Hwanwoong’s throat. He seems to lose himself for a moment in his own touch and Seoho knows that if they jerked off together like this, that would be enough.

But a part of him craves more.

‘You’re doing beautifully,’ says Hwanwoong, and Seoho at last understands too Hwanwoong’s desire for constant praise.

‘You’re doing all the work.’

Hwanwoong scoffs. ‘Please, do you think you do the work when you fuck me? You’re learning the real art now.’

Conceding to that, Seoho shuffles down the bed and swallows when Hwanwoong crawls catlike over him. It’s all unfamiliar but it all feels like home. He knows that there’s a lazy smile on his face and it’s somewhat embarrassing but he can’t make it go away. If Hwanwoong has been waiting for him to ask for this for so long, then it’s nothing compared to the latent desire that has existed in Seoho’s body and mind for even longer. He meets Hwanwoong’s eyes and finds himself flush with love.

‘Breathe again,’ Hwanwoong reminds him. His hands turn firm on Seoho’s hips, because he’s moving him into a position that he wants now. ‘Breathe now.’

Seoho nods, reminding himself to inhale when he feels the press of Hwanwoong’s cock around the vulnerable stretch of his rim. He moves the hand that isn’t around his own arousal, to Hwanwoong’s hair, finding comfort on that grip. He’s knotted this in his fingers a hundred times. Today can be no different. He breathes in sharply when Hwanwoong shifts forward and he feels, for the first time, what it is to be taken. His head rolls back to the pillow and a tremor runs up his back.

The pleasure is mental as much as physical.

Having Hwanwoong inside him is something that he’s needed for longer than he ever admitted. Even to himself.

‘I’ve got you,’ whispers Hwanwoong. His hands turn so gentle on Seoho’s body.

‘I know,’ he says. His voice comes out throaty, grabbing for words because he’s distracted by the drag of friction against his nerve-endings. For a moment, he almost smiles at the thought that he sounds fucked out before every being fucked, but then he’s dragged back to earth by the swifter move of Hwanwoong’s hips that knocks the air out of him. ‘ _Fuck_!’ he groans, but it’s a good fuck.

‘Like ripping off a band-aid,’ snickers Hwanwoong, and then he’s leant over his body, sheathed inside him, kissing at his neck. ‘You like it?’

Seoho nods. He doesn’t know what to do with his legs. Arousal is crawling on his skin and under it too. ‘Y-yeah,’ he says in a trembly voice. ‘Like it, Woong.’

‘If you sound this nice every time, I might never let you do the fucking again,’ grins Hwanwoong. He shifts his hips and Seoho moans aloud, giving him exactly what he wants. He can’t help it. Already he can feel the sweet spot that Hwanwoong talks about, the one that he searches for, and it’s snatched away from him when Hwanwoong pulls out halfway.

‘God,’ groans Seoho, ‘feels good.’

‘I make you feel good, right?’ presses Hwanwoong.

‘So good,’ he chokes. With every second, he adjusts to this new reality, mind and body. He’s caught up in it. When Hwanwoong pushes back he moans louder and jerks at his aching arousal. There’s precum on his hand, wet and messy, but nowhere near as wet as Hwanwoong’s fingers when he adds more lube to his own cock, smiling at the slide in and out of Seoho’s prone form. For the first time, Seoho notices the little sounds escaping Hwanwoong’s throat.

He can hear how hot this is for him.

It’s a different kind of sound to how they usually are together. Deeper, dragged from his chest. Hwanwoong touches up Seoho’s chest and uses one hand to pull his body down around him while the other plays with the hard bud of his nipple. The added stimulation makes Seoho jerk and he pumps at his cock faster. Pain has been replaced fully now. He’s forgotten how to felt to be fingered open for the first time, or how it felt to be taken for the first time. All of his thoughts are the drag of Hwanwoong’s cock and the ever-present nudge against the bundle of nerves at his prostate.

He gasps, a desperate noise. Hwanwoong must hear it because his boyfriend moves on his knees, finding an angle that permits him to thrust harder. Seoho gives in to it. He lets his body turn lax and even the hand working his arousal is loose. All of his thoughts are on Hwanwoong taking control of him. He never imagined that giving up control to someone else would feel like this. There’s not an ounce of anxiety. Only need. Need for the thrust of Hwanwoong’s hips and the wetness of his mouth that’s kissing all over his throat.

His free hand knots lazily in the hair at the base of Hwanwoong’s neck. His body sinks into the mattress, willing to be moulded however Hwanwoong wants it. He gasps and gasps and he’s never known himself to be so loud. All grip on restraint fades away. Stars blink in the corners of his eyes and his movements become so clumsy that it’s lucky Hwanwoong is doing most of the work. He can’t even keep up a rhythm on his own cock. That loss of control is as enticing as it is unfamiliar.

‘Come on, baby,’ whispers Hwanwoong, a grit in his voice close to Seoho’s ear.

That word, spoken aloud with a gruffness that Seoho has never heard from him, sends a ripple of arousal through his body like a shockwave. He jerks at his swollen length and cries out when he comes. The sound spills from his throat and chest. He’s never come like this before, his whole body shaking. His toes curl under. Unable to keep his eyes open, he gives into the bright lights beneath his lids and tries to keep any integrity in the grip of his hand.

He comes across his navel, all of his muscles tightening. They must grip like this every time, but he’s never been more aware of it than now. Because he clenches around Hwanwoong’s cock, almost betrayed by his body, and it’s then that Hwanwoong’s thrusts become sloppy. He’s still working out the last of his orgasm when Hwanwoong comes, and he’s hit by a vulnerability that knocks him back.

Hwanwoong is _inside_ him.

His hand shakes and he tries to find a grip on the sheets. Hwanwoong is stuttering, both his lips and his body, a shaking hand searching for his and they only just knot their fingers together. ‘Fuck, hyung,’ groans Hwanwoong, ‘f-fuck.’ If there’s love in his voice it’s translated through that word. That seems to be the only one that he has the slightest grasp on.

The spill inside him is hot. Seoho’s hit by more stars just at the sensation of it. He trembles, caught off guard, and his body comes down while Hwanwoong pulls out. The room is hot around them, now. Daylight spills through the narrow slats in the blinds. It’s only when it’s done that Seoho comes to full terms with what they have done, the walls that have been broken down today. His body is lax, like only Hwanwoong would be able to make it move.

‘Are you okay?’ whispers Hwanwoong. His voice is strained.

Seoho’s eyes flicker open. ‘I’m good. I’m – _you -_ ’

‘I’m sorry,’ Hwanwoong’s arm shakes as he props himself up and climbs off him, falling onto the bed at his side. ‘I wasn’t going to finish… you know… inside. _Fuck_.’

‘It’s good… felt good.’ Seoho’s mind is cloudy.

‘Think it just got to me quicker than I thought,’ Hwanwoong says. His voice is wavering. He crawls closer to Seoho and wraps his arms around his waist. ‘Was – was it really good?’

Seoho remembers how this usually goes. He feels different, today. Giving comfort was not the first thought in his mind but it creeps back in now. ‘So good,’ he says, still surprised by his own voice, ‘you’re so good. I feel whole.’

‘I love you,’ Hwanwoong kisses the corner of his mouth. ‘I love you so much. Thank you for letting me.’

‘I wanted it, my love. More than anything.’ He becomes aware that his body aches in a new way. Usually after sex his muscles ache, but today it’s his back. He stretches out his limbs and feels a sting when he crooks up one leg.

Reality has crept back into the room. ‘I shouldn’t have done that when we’re preparing for a comeback,’ says Hwanwoong, but there’s a naughty kind of laugh buried somewhere in his voice.

‘I’ll live.’

‘In a minute I’ll show you how to clean yourself up.’

‘How romantic.’

Hwanwoong swats his chest. ‘It’s important! Maybe now you’ll appreciate all the work I have to do!’

Seoho rolls onto his side and winces as he holds his gaze. ‘I’ve always appreciated it.’

Caught on his frown, Hwanwoong gives him a reassuring smile and leans in to kiss his lips. ‘I know, sweetheart. I’m only messing with you. I’m sorry. Are you feeling vulnerable right now?’

Seoho pauses on the question. Is he? _Yes_. In the best kind of way. ‘I feel a thousand times better than I did when I woke up.’ He steadies his breathing, and finds the rise and fall of his chest starts to level out too. ‘God, Woong, you always know just what to do for me.’ He throws an arm over his eyes. ‘I think feeling vulnerable was exactly what I needed.’

‘So you’re not thinking about work?’

‘Don’t mention work,’ he says dangerously. In this room, he had forgotten that it exists.

‘Love you,’ Hwanwoong says again, kissing the tip of his nose. ‘Love you, love you.’

‘I love you too.’ He squeezes his eyes shut and focusses in on what they have done. His heart flutters and his body aches and the two deserve one another. ‘Thank you.’

‘Oh you can thank Keonhee,’ Hwanwoong smirks. ‘He’s the one that said you needed to… loosen up.’

‘Never, ever mention Keonhee in bed again,’ groans Seoho.

Hwanwoong winks. ‘You didn’t think I was going to change just because I’m not the one getting fucked anymore, right? Because if you did, then you severely underestimated me.’

Meeting his eyes, Seoho shakes his head. ‘Never, ever change.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Promise me?’

Hwanwoong rolls onto his back and sprawls out, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. ‘Promise, hyung.’

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hvanwoong)
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed <3


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